Remember, My Choice
by Broken Stone
Summary: One friend makes the supreme sacrifice for another. My first Gundam fic, please be nice! Reviews are greatly appreciated. Rated M for safety. Acknowledgement to RoseWalker I got the inspiration for writing this from her Gundam fic.


**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of Gundam Wing. Unfortunately. Am just borrowing and they will be returned undamaged and in their original packaging. **

**Remember, My Choice**

The ground was very cold beneath him. It wasn't as cold as he was. His hands were cold, his arms heavy. His head rested on the ground, his eyes gazing up at the starry sky above him. He could see the moon, a shimmering silver ball, and could taste the softly falling rain as it landed on his face.

The only warmth was the blood flowing across the hard ground.

His braid was heavy with blood, sticking against the back of his head, sweat and blood plastering stray strands of hair across his face.

There was pain, but it was fading. It cracked across his ribs and burned inside his throat every time he drew a breath, but even that was slowly ebbing with the tide of his life as it soaked into the damp earth.

He closed his eyes briefly. It was a struggle to open them again. He forced himself to. If only for the beauty of the night sky to be the last thing that he ever saw.

_I don't want to die._

Tears were hot in his eyes. A couple spilled down the sides of his face, joining his blood as the soil drank it eagerly. He bit his lip to hold more tears back. That pain was sharper than that of the bullet holes torn through his chest and stomach, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

_I don't want to die!_

Dying was harder than he had expected. He had always known it would be ugly. There could be no other end for someone like him, he supposed, and he had never expected to live to a ripe old age. No, he had always expected to die young and he had always believed himself to be prepared for that moment when it came.

He had thought that he understood death. He had seen so much of it, had lost so many, had been prepared to sacrifice himself for what he believed in.

A great cosmic joke, that the God of Death should now be afraid to die, should now want to live.

He would have smiled if he had the strength. He couldn't even turn his head now.

Another great cosmic irony was that a former Gundam pilot should die in this way. If he had ever been asked how he thought he'd go, he would have said in the war, in the cockpit of his Gundam, that he would have either gone down fighting or he would have self-detonated. Either way, he would have gone on his own terms and taken as many of his enemies with him as he could.

He hadn't expected to die in a muddy field, on Earth, from two bullets that hadn't even been meant for him.

He would have laughed but his breathing was restricted. Like an iron band constricting around his chest.

There was shouting. It sounded far away. Gunfire. Voices screaming and shrieking and then silence.

There were footsteps. It was Heero.

The other former pilot crashed to his knees. 'Duo!'

'Hey,' Duo managed. 'Here's a tip. Don't get shot. It hurts like hell and seriously screws up your day.'

Heero ignored the bleak humour. 'Where are you hurt?' he asked in a dry, brisk tone that masked real concern.

'Got me twice. I ain't walking away from this one, buddy.'

Heero didn't respond to that either. In his mind, if Duo was still capable of cracking jokes at a time like this, he was probably going to be fine. A swift examination of his friend's physical injuries quickly disillusioned him. The wounds were massive, pumping blood at a terrifying rate. There was nothing he could do. He tried, desperately trying to block the wounds with his hands, trying to use strips of his coat to plug the bullet holes, but he knew it was futile.

Basically, all that he could do now was delay the inevitable.

'What happened?' Duo asked him in a hoarse whisper.

'We were ambushed.' Heero sounded furious, although he was hiding his emotions well. Furious that one of his friends had got caught in the crossfire of something that concerned only Heero. 'They were hiding, waiting for us.'

It hadn't even been a mission. The two of them had just gone for a walk. As simple and stupid as that.

Duo had been visiting Heero and Relena on Earth and, with Relena at some formal dinner party thing that Heero detested, the two had decided to go for a walk and catch up on the latest news about themselves and the other Gundam pilots.

How anyone had known they would be here, was anyone's guess. Probably a spy. Only the night before, Heero had grudgingly admitted that a few dissenters had issued death threats against him and Relena. He had never got around to explaining to Duo who they were, what they wanted or why they had targeted him and Relena. Duo had been meaning to ask him that tonight. Obviously, the dissenters had decided to try and assassinate Heero Yuy that night.

And they would have succeeded.

If Duo hadn't been there.

Duo had taken the first two bullets meant for Heero, and had given Heero enough time to locate the others hiding in the shadows and dispatch them.

'I killed them all,' Heero said quietly. He had never been big on emotions, never would be. Or rather, he was never big on expressing his emotions. But he was angry and, although he would never admit it, he was frightened. 'We'll find out the who and why later.'

'I saw the one – ' Duo stopped and grimaced, then continued, ' – the one who tried to shoot you.' Blood foamed out of his mouth and he spat, hating the taste of it, the taste of his own death.

'I know.' Heero looked suddenly angry. It should have been him lying there in a spreading pool of his own blood, fighting to breath, fighting to stay alive. 'Why?' he demanded, clenching his fists. 'Why did you save me?'

Duo smiled, a hideous expression in the mask of blood. 'That's what friends are for,' he rasped. His voice didn't sound like his own.

'It was meant for me!' Heero's voice rose, he was unable to control it.

'Nah. You got a lot to go on living for.' Duo closed his eyes, his forehead creased in pain. Talking hurt too much. But it needed to be said. 'That's what friends are for, Heero. To help each other. To save each other.'

'Duo, you're a fool,' Heero whispered.

'Yup. That's me.' Duo coughed violently, his chest heaving, and blood sprayed upwards into the air, and he gasped, his eyes wincing shut. 'I just want to know I didn't die for nothing.'

'What do you mean?'

Duo rallied the last of his strength, reached up and gripped a handful of Heero's shirt furiously. His eyes blazed as he glared up into his friend's face. 'It's more important to live than to die. I don't think you've ever understood that. Life is worth more than anything in the universe – remember that. Your life is worth something. You might be a soldier but you're a living being and – ' He couldn't go on. His body shuddered in agony and shock, and he cried out softly, blood splattering from his mouth. 'I saved you because I could. Because you're my friend. Get it? The five of us – what we went through – that's the kind of friends we are, right?'

Heero nodded silently. He did get it. The five of them had been through hell together and their friendship, their comradeship, was solid and founded upon mutual understanding. Any were willing to sacrifice themselves for each other and for what they believed in.

It was just that, now one of them was finally dying, Heero couldn't understand it. He had never imagined that any of his friends would ever be in a situation to sacrifice themselves for him. He had never imagined that he would ever have friends who would be willing to do such a thing. Heero was someone who made friends with great difficulty and he couldn't come to terms with the fact that he was losing one of the few true friends he had ever had.

'I can't save you,' he said. Duo never lied and Heero wasn't going to insult him now by telling him that he would be all right, that somehow he would be saved.

'I know that, pal.' Duo's voice was now a cracked whisper. His eyes were staying closed longer and his breathing was slowing. He released Heero's shirt, leaving a blood handprint. His fingers felt like lead weights. His arm thumped heavily on the ground. It was almost over.

'Tell the others something,' Duo said. It was harder and harder to speak, to even think, but this too needed to be said. 'Tell them it's been awesome knowing them. Tell them that.'

'I will,' Heero said, his voice oddly gentle.

'Heero?'

'Yes, Duo?'

'Don't let anyone forget me. Don't let anyone forget me…' His voice trailed away as his head fell to one side. His breathing slowed and stopped. His eyes darkened, the spark of life fading from them and then he was gone.

Heero looked down at his friend's lifeless body blankly. He had seen death, had dealt his share of it, but now he didn't know what to do. Slowly, mechanically, he reached over and closed Duo's eyes. Using the end of his sleeve, Heero carefully wiped the blood off of Duo's face. Now he looked as if he were merely sleeping, the black of his trademark priest garb hiding the red stain of blood.

Heero's hands were covered in blood. Duo's blood. He got to his feet, and looked up at the sky. The moon was the only witness to what had happened, and he watched it silently. He lifted his hands to his face and angrily blotted the tears from his eyes. He didn't deserve the release of grief. This was his fault. His guilt could be lessened by expressing his sorrow, but he was not going to allow himself that. This was his fault. He would atone for his friend's death, carry that burden of guilt silently.

Duo's voice rang through his head.

_Hey, buddy, I made my choice. Don't you go taking credit for what I did of my own free will. If you think your wallowing in guilt and self-recrimination is gonna bring me back, then go right ahead and wallow. You got my permission to do that. If not, then pick yourself up and thank me for what I did, rather than blaming yourself._

Heero almost smiled. Even in death, Duo didn't shut up.

_Remember, my choice, my sacrifice. Don't you dare waste it._

Heero nodded firmly. 'All right, Duo,' he said aloud. 'If that's what you want.'

_And don't you know it._

He looked up at the sky again and then made himself look down at Duo's body. He didn't cry. He wouldn't, not yet. He crouched down and with great care lifted Duo's body from the ground, cradling the dead pilot in his arms as he would a frail child. The weight in his arms was fragile, broken, and startlingly light, as if it had been the very force of life that had given it any substance at all.

He hadn't been able to save his friend. But he could take him home. That much, he could do.


End file.
